


Portrait of a Queen

by krzed



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, F/M, Identity Reveal, Realization, Romance, Season/Series 02 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 15:19:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8332585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krzed/pseuds/krzed
Summary: Nathanaël and Chloé deal with harsh realizations.In response to fic prompt by @aarspi here.





	1. The Stages of Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathanaël deals with the aftermath of his akumatization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woke up one morning, walked up to my computer, and four hours later, this came out. Hope you enjoy!

' _What happened to you?_ '

Nathanaël awoke to find himself floating in a swirling purple void. Something told him he should recognize where he was, recognize the voice that had pulled him from his slumber. But why was he sleeping? Where was he? How did he get here? He called out to...someone. Anyone, but no sound escaped his lips.

' _Please, come back to us._ '

That voice again. So familiar... Somehow it made him both angry and elated, filled his heart with warmth and his belly with fire. Who was it...who was _she_? Who was this girl who he both cared for and despised? He attempted to turn and search for the mystery woman, but found he couldn't move. He simply hung in the abyss, aware, but unable to do much more than think.

' _Please, Nath. Come...come back to_ me _._ '

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they met a familiar pair of sky blue eyes, framed by a black and yellow mask. Queen Bee. Nathanaël felt another name dance on his tongue, but some presence in his mind forbade him from speaking it, from even thinking it. Why? What was that other name? And why did the thought of his own name fill him with disgust?

“I am not Nathanaël.” The words slipped unbidden from his mouth. “I am Evillustrator.”

Oh.

She shook her head, her long blonde hair swaying behind her. “No, you're not. You don't have to listen to Hawkmoth. We can help you. If you'll let us.” She laid her hand on the hand holding his stylus and he looked down. Drawn on the tablet fused to his right arm was a mask, an exact recreation of Bee's mask, and his stylus sat poised above it, but not the drawing tip. The eraser.

Pain spiked through his mind, and another familiar voice flooded his psyche. ' _Do it, Evillustrator. You're so close. Erase her mask and see who she really is!_ '

The stylus shook in his hand. Yes. This is what he wanted. Queen Bee's identity. But why? Why was her identity the reason he became akumatized? He looked back into her eyes, so warm, full of concern and tenderness. Eyes that begged him to come back, just as her voice had in the void. Yes, he knew now it was Queen Bee's voice that had called out to him, pulled Nathanaël back to the surface. And now, it was Nathanaël, not Evillustrator, who met her gaze. The rage and focus in the Akuma's eyes melted away to be replaced by the artist's look of desperation and pain.

“Bee...” he struggled to say, his hoarse voice fighting against him. “Help...me...”

Her black lips smiled, and she pulled the stylus from his grip. It wasn't long before the swarm of magical ladybugs descended upon him and ripped the persona of Evillustrator away from him. Or did the insects force it back inside him? Was that darkness always within him, just waiting for a black butterfly to awaken it?

Weakness buckled his knees and he would have fallen had a pair of black and yellow arms not caught him and pulled him into an embrace. He shook away the remaining fog in his mind and registered a shock of blonde hair filling his field of vision. He wrapped his arms around Queen Bee and buried his face in her hair, drawing in the familiar scent of her peach shampoo. He felt safe here, comfortable in her arms. Odd to find comfort the arms of a girl when you don't even know who she–

His eyes snapped open. The thoughts and memories rushed back to him. What he had been doing before Hawkmoth delivered a little black butterfly into his room. Why he got akumatized. Queen Bee loosened the embrace and pressed her forehead against his, her lips moving but her words lost in the screaming vortex of his mind. It all made sense now. The name he couldn't _(wouldn't)_ speak, the conflicting emotions...

A beep from her Miraculous forced her to pull away from him, her fingers brushing down his arm to interlace with his own. Before she could fly away, Nathanaël tightened his grip on her hand and forced her to wait.

“Bee,” he whispered, but didn't really know where to go from here. “Uh, th-the Place de Vosges. Midnight. I, ah...I need to talk to you.”

She answered only with a warm smile and a single nod, then flew off over the rooftops.

Almost an hour later, Nathanaël flopped onto his bed, happy that his parents weren't home from work yet, and stared at the slow, hypnotic rotations of his ceiling fan. His floor was still littered with the half-finished sketches of his work prior to Hawkmoth's visit. Anyone else entering the room would only register a random mess, but Nathanaël saw the story hidden in the chaos.

As an artist, he accepted inspiration as it came to him. A flower might inspire a landscape, a person or object a portrait. If he felt in the mood to draw his Super Nathan comics, perhaps he would seek a villain, a plot device, or a potential love interest. His eyes constantly scanned his surroundings in search of something to make his sketching hand itch, and he had never before felt an itch more powerful than when he laid eyes on Queen Bee.

Her face, her form, her eyes and smile graced the pages of multiple sketchbooks, the only one of Nathanaël's muses to ever do so. Usually inspiration lasted only a few pages, the previous record at twenty with Marinette, but Queen Bee... It was more than her body, it was her passion, her fire, her infectious attitude than inflamed Nathanaël's senses. No one before had drawn his attention like this or been drawn as much as she.

That is, until his eyes caught another muse.

He hated the tingle that descended on his hand when he laid his gaze on her. Why would he ever want to draw... _her_? He hated her. Wanted nothing to do with her and was convinced nothing good could come from her face gracing his sketchpad. But draw her he did, as some irrational, superstitious side of himself believed that if he ever denied a muse, he would lose his passion forever. But as he drew her, he came to realize he had drawn her before. But that was impossible. Surely he would remember sketching the soft curve of her jaw, the gentle flow of her long blonde hair, those immeasurably deep blue eyes...

Nathanaël turned his head to the side and found his first sketches on the ground. One side of the pages showed a hastily drawn bust of Queen Bee, while the other side bore half a sketch of his new muse at the same angle. He inwardly scolded himself for allowing his technique to suffer in his frenzy, but blamed the frantic pencil strokes and sloppy shading on his disturbing realization. Several pages across the carpet followed the same pattern. Queen Bee beside this new muse, sometimes a close-up of their jaws, their brow, even their ears, which Nathanaël had read somewhere were just as accurate for identification as fingerprints.

As his eyes swept the room, the drawings devolved into sketches, then into doodles. At first the pages neatly torn from the sketchbooks, then ripped and lightly creased, then torn and crumpled into balls. He remembered his frenetic search for the truth, and though the truth sat right before him he still refused to acknowledge it.

_Denial_

He sat up to let his eyes fall on his desk, clear of clutter for the first time in years, but only because the clutter now sat beside it in a mangled heap. A broken pencil sat beneath his chair beside a pile of crumbled charcoal that still bore faint traces of his shoeprint. A glass that once held water used for his watercolors lay shattered against the wall, a sickly rainbow staining the paint as the water dripped down. He remembered screaming. Remembered stomping and driving his fist into the wall, because how dare she? How dare she lie to him? Fool him into admiring someone like _her_? Into...into actually caring about her. Wanting to see her, to talk to her...

_Anger_

The memories of what came next were wrapped in a purple fog. He barely recalled a serpent's tongue wrapped in velvet, hissing empty promises into his mind. He wanted answers. He wanted the truth. _Needed_ it. So consumed was he by this need that he made a deal with the devil to get it: the power to rip the mask from Queen Bee's face in exchange for some magic jewelry. And like many other Parisians in the past few years, he had accepted.

_Bargaining_

Then, when Bee reached out to him rather than fight him, he felt...conflicted. He knew she should hate him, but she didn't. Well, Queen Bee didn't hate him, but the girl he suspected was beneath her mask surely did. So, why? Why didn't she punch him in the face? Why didn't she toss the villain that he was off a building and let Ladybug's magic fix whatever happened to him? Why did she look at him as though seeing him in that state hurt her? He pondered these questions on the slow walk home, feeling more and more confused and lost the more he searched for answers.

What confused him even more was realizing just how little bullying there was in his life since Queen Bee joined Ladybug and Chat Noir. No mocking tones, no sketchbook thefts, no insults. In fact, the classroom had been relatively silent. But that didn't make sense. People don't just change overnight. Yet, she did, and Nathanaël was forced to reexamine everything he knew about her. Everything he felt about her, and that left him empty, anxious, as though everything was about to change and he had absolutely no control over it.

_Depression_

She had changed. He admitted that now. He had seen her change, but refused to believe it was more than an act. And Queen Bee...she had somehow become more than a muse, had wormed her way into his heart, but...if Queen Bee was who he suspected she was... He glanced down at the dozens of sketches comparing Queen Bee to... _her,_ then turned his eyes back up to the ceiling fan. He couldn't deny it any longer.

Chloé was Queen Bee.

A choked cough echoed in the room. It took Nathanaël a second to realize that he'd made the noise. Then he made it again. And again. The fourth time, he recognized the cough for what it was, or at least what it was trying to be: laughter. His throat, still dry and parched from screaming earlier, burned as a light chuckle poured through. That chuckle became a giggle, and his attempts to suppress it only made it stronger.

He cackled. He howled. He writhed on his bed as uncontrollable laughter filled the room and tears streaked from his eyes. It was as though the universe was playing some cruel joke and he was living the punchline. Fate tricked him into falling for the one girl he hated more than anyone else in this world.

“How?” he asked no one, his fit of laughter subsiding. “How in the _hell_ did I fall in love with Chloé Bourgeois?”

Hearing the words solidified something in him. He'd always admired Queen Bee since she became his muse, but he chalked it up to a celebrity crush, to hero worship. But seeing Bee (and by extension Chloé) concerned over him told him that she felt something in return. Maybe not love, but...no. It had to be love. ' _Come back to_ me _._ ' She emphasized her desire to have him back. She held onto him after Ladybug healed him. She didn't hesitate to agree when he asked to see her tonight.

He loved Chloé.

Chloé loved him.

Again, how in the _hell_ did that happen?

“Well,” he sighed, standing up to clean the mess he'd made. “I guess we'll have time to discuss it tonight.”

_Acceptance_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will only be a continuation of this if there is enough positive response. Follow me on tumblr @krzed for more!


	2. Unbidden Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloé considers her feelings for Nathanaël.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot. *beats head against table*

When Queen Bee's boots touched down on the balcony at the topmost floor of _Le Grand Paris_ , golden light swirled around them and rose across her body. The light passed her face, peeling Queen Bee's mask away to reveal Chloé Bourgeois. Vii zipped through the balcony doors and landed next to her bowl of lollipops while Chloé turned and leaned out with her hands against the railing, gazing out at the city. A drawn out sigh slipped through her lips and it felt as though a weight on her shoulders lifted. Paris was safe for another day. Nathanaël was safe. But the only reason he was in danger in the first place was...

Her heart ached. It wasn't just seeing Nathanaël's eyes behind that mask, but knowing she was the one who put him there. She snorted. Two years ago, she wouldn't have cared. Two years ago, she would have laughed at his pain... _had_ laughed at it. Mocked him, mocked his passion, his crush on Marinette, and afterwards, had she apologized? No. Not even after becoming Queen Bee and turning her life around had she apologized. To anyone. Not that anyone would believe her. To her former classmates, she was still Chloé Bourgeois. The selfish, cruel bitch they all knew back in collège.

She was somewhat thankful that she hadn't seen any of her old frie...no. Not friends. They were never her friends. Regardless, she was thankful she hadn't seen any of them in some time, everyone attending a different lycée. Everyone except the red-headed artist who still hated Chloé more than anyone else and sat next to her in chemistry, endlessly doodling her alter ego as some great karmic insult.

At her new school, Chloé had a fresh start, a second chance to make friends. Yes, most of the other students knew she was the mayor's daughter and was mixed up in Akuma attacks in the past, but hardly any of them knew she had caused most of them. Everyone got to see the new Chloé, the Chloé who was still full of attitude, who always had a snide or sarcastic remark, but who turned that attitude towards people who hurt her friends. The Chloé Queen Bee had brought out of her.

She wished Nathanaël could see that side of her.

...except...

~

_It was Queen Bee's first Akuma, an armor-clad woman named Iron Maiden, and Queen Bee had pulled Nathanaël from beneath her hammer just before it could grind him into a splintery paste. When he looked up into her eyes to thank her, a redness that rivaled that of his hair spread over his cheeks. He absently scratched at his left hand before Queen Bee flew away to deal with the Akuma. She spent the rest of the day curious as to his reaction. No one had ever looked at her that way._

_So, when Chloé spotted Nathanaël sitting on the edge of the southwest fountain of The Place de Vosges the next day, sketchbook in his lap, she felt herself inexplicably drawn to him. She tried to play it casual, inquiring about his well-being after the Akuma attack. Naturally, he didn't believe_ she _of all people would be worried about_ him. _She was ready to brush him off and mock his Ladybug doodles when he surprised her._

_He turned his sketchbook around and held it up to her. In the center, a full body drawing of a girl in a yellow and black bodysuit, her golden hair flowing behind her, a pair of gossamer wings protruding from her back. In the bottom right corner, a sketch of her face, her blue eyes meticulously shaded in._

“ _It's the new hero, Queen Bee. She saved me during the last attack.”_

“ _You know, Chloé...you could really learn something from her.”_

_~_

He did see that side of her. He just didn't know it was her.

For a few weeks after that, she saw him at every Akuma attack, sketchbook at the ready. He had a better attendance record than even Alya. One day, he'd gotten too close and...

~

_"I swear, Nathanaël, why do you have to get so close to the attacks? You're worse than Alya!”_

_Queen Bee had her arms hooked under his, flying him away from the city streets now covered in sticky tar._

_"I'm sorry, I just...I wanted to draw you and..." She dropped him on a rooftop and landed next to him._

_"Plenty of pictures of me on the Ladyblog," she huffed._

_"But...they don't do you justice." She blushed at the comment. "I...want to see you in person."_

It was then she made either the best or the worst decision of her life.

_"If it'll keep you away from the attacks...I'll...I'll pose for you."_

_"Y-you'll what?"_

_She turned to him and smiled. "Stay away from the Akuma attacks and I promise: I'll visit you whenever you want and let you draw me."_

_~_

For over a year, she held to her promise. He filled sketchbooks with her face, she regaled him with stories of fighting Akumas, working with Ladybug and Chat Noir, helping Volpina gain the city's trust. And she enjoyed every moment. At first, it was because she savored the irony that he hated one side of her and worshiped the other. But now, it was because she got to see him. Wanted to see him. Why had she made that promise? Why did she want so desperately to keep him safe? Why did it hurt to see him akumatized again? Why did she want him to look at her the same way he looked at Queen Bee?

“Whasha doin aht here by yuhself?” Vii asked around a lollipop. Chloé hadn't noticed her kwami partner flutter out of her room and settle on the railing beside her.

“Thinking.”

“Yuh've ben dun thah a lot letleh.” Vii pulled the candy from her mouth with an audible pop. “It's...about that red-haired boy, isn't it?”

Chloé blushed and jerked her head away from the kwami. “None of your business.”

“Chloé,” Vii cooed and placed a paw on her partner's hand. “When you transform, I don't just disappear into the Miraculous. I become a part of you. I see through your eyes. I share your thoughts, your emotions. I know what you feel when you look at him, and I know you've felt this way for a while, since he showed you his first drawings of Queen Bee.”

Chloé's blush deepened, but she said nothing.

“It's that feeling that's made you want to be a hero on both sides of the mask, and it's that feeling that has all these questions running around in your head.” Chloé looked down at Vii who only looked up at her with a supportive smile. Were they still connected, even though she wasn't transformed? Was that how she knew what she was thinking? “Those questions have a single, simple answer, Chloé. So, do yourself a favor and say it.”

Chloé returned her eyes to the city below. A single, simple answer. Single, yes. Simple, _hell_ no. Vii was wrong. There was no way Chloé Bourgeois had fallen in lo–

~

“ _You know, you don't need to worry about your hair so much,' Vii teased, a tiny emery board in her paws. 'It's always gonna look tacky.”_

_Chloé glared at the floating kwami, her loose hair gathered in one hand and her Miraculous in the other. “You're just jealous because you don't have any.”_

“ _Oh please. I have been beautiful since the dawn of time.” Vii waved at Chloé's head. “And I didn't need that mop you have on your head to help me.”_

“ _Whatever.” Chloé shrugged and turned her attention back to her vanity. “I'm just making sure my hair looks lovely for school tomorrow.”_

_Vii went back to filing...something on her paws. “Yeah, school. AKA that boy with the red mop on his head.”_

_The comb clattered to the floor and blood rushed to Chloé's face. “N-no! It isn't for...for_ him _!”_

“ _'Oh, sure, because those “coincidental” walks in the park don't mean anything...”_

_~_

She forced the memory from her mind. Coincidental walks in the park. Right. She just wanted to see his progress on his Queen Bee sketches. When she'd offered to become his personal model, those 'coincidental walks' stopped. That's all it was. She absolutely did not lo–

~

_Rain pounded against the sidewalk in front of Francois-Dupont. Chloé zipped up the purple fleece jacket she had found wadded up in the back of her locker and took a tentative step outside. The morning had started so bright and shiny, but had steadily devolved into this torrential hell, leaving Chloé to walk back to the hotel without an umbrella. She just_ had _to wear white today and her driver just_ had _to ask for today off._

_She briefly considered transforming and flying home just before she heard the pop of an umbrella unfurling behind her. She turned and saw Nathanaël holding an umbrella with a clear canopy over their heads._

_Chloé scoffed and stepped to the side, sweeping her arms towards the door in an exaggerated gesture. “Don't let me get in your way, tomato.”_

_Nathanaël grimaced and tightened his grip on the umbrella handle. “You know, I_ was _gonna walk you home...against my better judgment,” he add that last part under his breath, “but if you're gonna be like that...”_

_He stepped outside and Chloé lunged forward, latching into his arm. “Wait!” Their eyes locked on each other and a blush formed on both their faces. Nathanaël broke his gaze away first, lowering his eyes to their arms. Chloé blinked and also looked down. She jumped away from him with a small yelp and crossed her arms. “I-if you're offering...”_

“ _Say please.”_

_She glared up at Nathanaël._ 'When did he get taller than me' _she pondered._ “ _Seriously?”_

“ _Bye.”_

“ _W-wait!” She grabbed his arm again, immediately retracting her hand as though bitten. “P-p...” She groaned to herself. “Please walk me home?”_

_He gave her a half-hearted smile and moved his umbrella over both of them. They walked in silence the entire way, neither sparing the other a glance, Chloé with her arms crossed, visibly uncomfortable. When they reached the hotel, she mumbled her gratitude and put one hand on the door. Before she pushed through, she turned to Nathanaël, barely a few steps away and called out to him. He turned to her with a disinterested look in his eyes._

“ _Why...why did you walk me home?”_

_He rolled his eyes. “Because unlike you, I have a heart.”_

“ _Hey! I have more of a heart than you think!”_

“ _Oh, really?” He shot her a challenging smirk. “I'd like to see it some day.”_

_~_

Chloé shook her head. Okay, so maybe Nathanaël had been nice to her, like, _one time._ And maybe after that, she tried harder. Tried to change, tried to be nice, to show him her heart. But it still didn't mean anything. It didn't mean she lo–

~

_Queen Bee hovered over the streets of Paris, her eyes trained on the Akuma glaring up at her. Evillustrator. His cold blue eyes, such a painful contrast from his usual bright teal, held loathing and rage within them. She turned her gaze to her teammates behind her. Ladybug stood with her yoyo wire wrapped around an Akuma seemingly made of fire, Chat before her with his staff held in a defensive posture, several of Evillustrator's drawn sawblades lodged in the ground around him. Beside Ladybug, Volpina crouched with a hand over her right eye, a pained expression stretching her features. Queen Bee could just make out a sliver of tanned skin on the bridge of her nose... Was...was part of her mask missing?_

“ _It's about time you got here,” the Akuma growled. She returned her eyes down to the pained soul below. “I need to know, Queen Bee. I need to know who you are!” A quick swipe of his stylus and pain ignited in Bee's right temple. She screeched and dropped out of the sky but just before she did, she caught a glimpse of the image drawn on his tablet: her mask. Her fingers soon found the edge of her mask, at least where it should have been. The magical material had eroded away to the corner of her eye, the edge rough and jagged._

_Evillustrator huffed. “It seems it takes a bit more force to unmask you heroes. Just have to try harder!”  
_

_Queen Bee snatched her trompo from her waist and cast it out. Just before she snapped the cord back, she yelled, “Swarm!” At her command, the top multiplied and dozens of duplicates circled Evillustrator before converging on him. She mentally struggled to aim each top away from any vital areas; she only wanted to distract him, not to hurt him. She succeeded, as he had no choice but to clear his tablet and draw several walls around himself to deflect the assault. She assumed the subsequent soothing tingle at her temple was her mask regenerating. A quick glance to Volpina, who lowered her hand as her mask spread back across her face, confirmed this. The fox girl pulled her flute from her back and stood, teeth barred._

“ _Volpi, no!” Queen Bee waved her away. “Let me talk to him!”_

_Volpina looked from Queen Bee to Evillustrator and back. A tiny beep emitted from her necklace, making the decision for her. She sheathed her weapon, growling, “Better know what you're doing, girl.” She leapt to the rooftops and disappeared into the distance._

_Queen Bee waved her hands and all but one of the trompos vanished in puffs of yellow smoke. She ignored the still spinning top at the villain's feet and strode up to him. He regained his bearings and erased the walls on his tablet only to replace them with another sketch of Bee's mask. The stylus twirled in his fingers and the eraser tip hovered over the tablet._

“ _What happened to you?” she asked when she was close enough._

_Evillustrator glowered at her, but despite his cold exterior, he took a step backwards as she approached. “You happened to me. I must know the truth. Who are you? Who are you behind that mask?”_

_'_ He got akumatized because of me...again _.' Queen Bee swallowed the lump in her throat. “Please, come back to us.”_

_A single flinch at the corner of his eye, an eye with teal slowly bleeding into it. That was all she needed. She stepped forward and rested a gloved hand against his cheek. He recoiled from her touch, but she kept her hand on him, her eyes burning from tears she was struggling to hold back. She thought it hurt to see him become this purple-skinned demon again, but to know it was because of her..._

“ _Please, Nath,” she whispered, barely able to conceal the quivering in her voice. “Come...come back to_ me _.”_

_He blinked, slowly, and when his eyes opened again, Nathanaël's eyes shined behind his violet mask. A weight lifted from Bee's heart. She was getting through to him, but she still had work to do. Though Nathanaël looked at her now, anger and bitterness still flowed from his gaze._

“ _I am not Nathanaël. I am Evillustrator.”_

_Queen Bee shook her head, and pleaded, “No, you're not. You don't have to listen to Hawkmoth. We can help you. If you'll let us.” She laid a hand on his, her fingers brushing against the stylus that held the wicked butterfly corrupting him. He trembled, he shook, and his eyes, filled with pain and doubt, fell to their joined hands. He grunted when the glowing outline of a butterfly manifested over his eyes, and Queen Bee bit her tongue to keep from lashing out at Hawkmoth through him._

_He lifted his eyes back up to hers, now begging and fearful. “Bee,” he wheezed. “Help...me...”_

_She smiled. He was free, or at least would be soon. She slipped the stylus from his grasp and fluttered over to Ladybug, who released the butterfly from both it and the necklace the fire Akuma wore. When she called her healing magic down on the city, Queen Bee was waiting when the darkness consuming Nathanaël lifted away and he collapsed into her arms._

_She held him. Not a word exchanged between the two for a solid minute, and that's all she wanted. She just wanted him, here, in her arms. When his arms snaked around her waist, her heart melted, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut against a wave of unbidden tears. She pulled away from him and pressed her forehead against his._

“ _I'm sorry,” she whimpered. “Whatever I did to get you akumatized, I'm so sorry. Nath, you...you mean so much to me.”_

_~_

She blushed when he looked at her. She smiled when she thought of him. She pushed herself to become a better person, to be Queen Bee even when she wasn't wearing the mask, all because she wanted to show him her heart, a heart which pounded when he smiled at her, flew when he laughed, and ached when he hurt. And when Ladybug's magic pried him from Hawkmoth's grasp, she had all but confessed to him.

“...I love him.”

With her revelation, she found it easier to breath. Her mind cleared and her heart slowed. But her eyes...her eyes burned with tears long held back finally able to flow. Tears of joy, tears of pain, tears of relief. She lowered her head into her arms and wept, finally accepting the chaotic emotions rampaging through her.

“Vii,” she sobbed, “I-I...I l-love him.”

Vii floated up to her partner's head an laid a comforting paw on her temple. “There's no need for tears, Chloé. It's about time you admit this to yourself.”

“But, Vii.” Chloé turned her head towards her kwami but did not lift it. “What's he g-gonna do when he finds out? When he finds out I'm behind Queen Bee's mask?” She buried her face back into her arms. “He'll hate who I really am.”

Vii settled down on the railing, her paw now resting on Chloé's cheek. “We kwamis have partnered with a lot of humans, and each one did something different with the anonymity we gave them, but this remains constant: if you want to see someone's true self, give them a mask. You could have been anyone, Chloé. You could have been a villain, a tyrant, a selfish glory hog and no one could trace those actions back to Chloé Bourgeois. But you chose to become a hero. You chose to become Queen Bee and that's who you really are. That's who Nathanaël loves.”

Chloé lifted her head and looked out at the city, the setting sun on her left. “How do you know he loves me?”

Vii smiled. “I've seen the way he looks at you. That boy has it bad.”

Chloé smiled herself. ' _The way he looks at me...'_

_~  
“Why are you scratching like that? You don't have a rash, do you?”_

_Nathanaël looked up from his sketchpad and into Queen Bee's inquisitive face. He dropped his eyes down to his hands and stammered, “Oh, I, uh...it's weird, it's stupid, but...my drawing hand_ literally _itches when I get inspired. Whenever it happens, I just have to draw whoever or whatever I see.”_

“ _And that happens when you look at me?”_

_He smiled. “All the time.”_

_~_

Chloe's smile faded. But that means...yesterday...

~

“ _Alright class, we'll have a quiz on electron affinity and electronegativity tomorrow. Dismissed.”_

_Chloé gathered her books and slung her bag over her shoulder. Her favorite yellow pen slipped from her grasped and rolled under the table she shared with Nathanaël. When she crouched down to retrieve it, she spotted Nathanaël still seated with an almost disgusted look directed at her._

“ _What's your problem?” she asked._

“ _N-nothing,” he grumbled as his right hand scratched at his left._

_~_

“ _Whenever it happens, I just have to draw whoever or whatever I see.”_

_~_

“ _I need to know, Queen Bee. I need to know who you are!”_

_~_

“He knows.” Vii tilted her head at Chloe's words. “He knows I'm Queen Bee.”

“Chloé, there's no way he could–”

“It all makes sense.” She stood, sending Vii tumbling before she righted herself and tried to keep up with her rapidly pacing partner. “His hand itches when he gets inspired. Yesterday in class he was looking right at me when his hand started itching.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “He drew me, he drew Chloé but found out he's drawn me before. He found out I'm Queen Bee and he...he couldn't believe it.” She laughed in spite of herself. “Of course he wouldn't. He found out the hero he's adored this whole time is...” she dropped her arms to her sides, her face fell, “is the girl who bullied him for years. That's why he became Evillustrator again. He needed confirmation. He needed to know.” She trudged over to one of the lounge chairs on her balcony, dropped into it, and pulled her knees into her chest. “He got akumatized because he didn't want to believe Chloé Bourgeois could be a superhero.”

Vii dropped onto Chloe's knees and stared into her partner's eyes. “He didn't seem too upset when he asked to meet you tonight.” Chloé huffed and turned your head. “Maybe he'll be more understanding than you think.”

“You seem to forget Vii: Ladybug's the lucky one. Not me.”

“You can't avoid him forever. You'll see him in class tomorrow anyways, so you might as well see him tonight.”

Chloé turned her head to gaze into the sunset. Vii was right.

_'I can't avoid him forever.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, obviously, there will be one more chapter. Follow me @krzed on tumblr for more stuff!


	3. Bared Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe and Nathanael finally meet at the Place de Vosges to discuss their feelings.

Nathanaël sat on the edge of the fountain, his elbows propped on his knees and his hands hanging between them. His head was bowed, so Queen Bee couldn't see his face from where she hovered above the Place de Vosges. Had her mind not been contemplating flying back home, burying her face in a pillow, and screaming her throat raw, she would have noticed him sitting at the same fountain where he had shown her his first sketches of Queen Bee. She did, however, notice that he wasn't keeping his eyes to the sky, expectant and impatient, but he simply sat, awaiting her arrival.

She slowed her wings and gently dropped to the ground just outside the copse of trees at the center of the park. The hum of her wings matched the thrum in her chest. Before her boots had even touched down on the grass, Nathanaël had turned and stood, his eyes on hers. In them, she read many emotions. Chief among them uncertainty, but also concern and perhaps even surprise. However, for everything she saw in his gaze, she didn't see what she had expected. Anger

_though he should be angry_

disgust

_he hates you, you know he does_

or betrayal.

_come on, you practically killed his muse_

Queen Bee shook the invasive thoughts from her mind. She had no proof he knew her identity, though ever fiber of her being, every inch of her heart told her so. She only knew that he stood before her and stared at her, unmoving and silent, and the stillness was stifling. She wanted him to say something. Anything. He was the one who wanted to see her tonight. He was the one who wanted to talk to her. About what she didn't

_he wants to talk about the horrible person behind your mask_

know. She bit the inside of her lips, but could only hold her words back for so long.

“Nath, you...”

~

Nathanaël looked down at his phone. Ten after midnight. Was she just running late? Avoiding him? Did she know that he knew? He let his head hang and blew a puff of air between his lips. How did his life turn out like this? Just yesterday, the biggest worry on his mind was memorizing the seven diatomic molecules, and now he was trying to figure out how to break it to Queen Bee

_Chloé_

that he was about ninety percent sure he knew her identity. And not only that, but his feelings for her had changed. He

_loved her_

didn't hate her anymore. He wasn't sure what he felt

_yes you are_

but it definitely wasn't hate, and it struck him as odd that his feelings could change so drastically. He knew next to nothing about Chloé aside from his limited interactions with her back in collège, seeing her at parties he wasn't entirely sure he was invited to, sitting next to her in lycée

_drawing her, talking to her for hours_

so how could he possibly like

_love_

her?

A faint buzzing met his ears. He pushed himself to his feet and turned to see Queen Bee descending from the sky and landing a short distance away. He met her gaze and instantly knew something was wrong. She wasn't her usual fiery self. Her eyes projected an almost quiet anxiety, pensiveness, and...maybe a touch of fear. It seemed similar to what he was feeling, but what was she afraid of? Unless...she knew. Queen Bee knew he'd discovered her identity. _Chloé_ knew.

He stood in silence for a whole minute, his mind attempting to sort through how to handle this. There was a reason he was an artist and not a public speaker. Did he admit his discovery? Did he play dumb? Did he confess the feelings he wasn't 100% certain of? After running scenarios through his mind for far too long, he decided to speak.

“Bee, I...”

~

“Nath, you...”

“Bee, I...”

They spoke in the same moment and recoiled slightly. Queen Bee was the first to recover, though the way she shuffled on her feet betrayed her discomfort. She licked her lips, then said with a tilt of her chin, “Y-you first.”

Nathanaël swallowed the lump in his throat and scratched his thumbs against his fingertips. Queen Bee knew that was a nervous tick of his, much like chewing erasers, and opened her mouth to comfort him.

Nathanaël spoke first. “That,” he started. He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “That, uh, chem quiz today was a...real pain, wasn't it?”

_'Seriously? That was the best you could come up with? You're standing in front of a superhero, and a girl you potentially ~~love~~ like, and that's how you decided to break the ice? Chemistry?'_

But somehow it worked, because her previously tense shoulders loosened and she sighed. “So, y-you...you do know who I am.”

Nathanaël's body likewise relaxed. “Yeah, I do...” He took a breath. Moment of truth. “...C-Chloé.”

Her hands slowly flexed closed, shook, then released, and she tore her eyes away from his to gaze around them. She turned away from him and wandered into the trees behind her with Nathanaël not far behind, praying she wouldn't leave. Queen Bee strode around one of the trunks and with a flash of golden light emerged on the other side as Chloé Bourgeois. She leaned against the tree trunk and crossed her arms, still refusing to meet Nathanaël's eyes.

He stopped a few paces away from her, noticing the drastic shift in her body language. Now withou her mask, all of the courage she previously possessed abandoned her. She seemed small, timid, unsure. She sank in on herself, pulling in to protect herself, completely unlike Queen Bee's upfront and offensive nature. But what was she trying to protect herself from? Scrutiny? Criticism?

“I'm...I'm sorry.”

An apology. Nathanaël had just heard an apology from Chloé Bourgeois. 'Two-years-ago' Nathanaël would have scoffed at the idea of Chloé apologizing, but now, knowing what he knew about her, about Queen Bee...

“For what?”

Chloé whipped her head around and stared at him as though he had grown a second head. She shook her head, looking more confused and almost disgusted by the second, then stammered, “'F-for _what?'_ Uh, getting you akumatized, for starters! _Twice!”_ She turned away again and glared at the ground before her, her finger nails biting into her palms. “For being so cruel to you! For mocking you, mocking your work! For ruining your chances with Marinette! For using you! Getting you to draw me, to inflate my ego! For...for getting...” She struggled to maintain her composure, but with every word, her voice and resolve broke a little more.

“For getting close to you when I knew you hated me.” She had stopped shouting and spoke almost at a whisper. “For...being the reason you endangered yourself like...like an _idiot!”_ Her voice recovered its venom for but a moment, her brow furrowed, but just as quickly it softened. “For tricking you into caring for someone like me.” A single tear ran down her cheek. “For...” Her head and voice dropped even lower. “For thinking I had a chance with you.”

Nathanaël had never seen her cry. Chloé or Queen Bee. But here she stood, small, vulnerable, her shoulders hitching with every breath. His heart wrenched about in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to her, to comfort her, but something kept him rooted where he stood. Was it some part of him that still saw her as the fifteen-year-old bully from collège? Was it the revelation that she _wanted_ to be with him? The confirmation that she may

_did_

have feelings for him?

“Chloé...” was all he could manage before she started speaking again.

“I'm sorry for everything I've ever done to you.” She thumbed some tears from one eye. “I...I understand if you never want to see me again. If that's what you really want, I-I'll have Daddy transfer me to a new lycée _,_ a-and I'll never say another word to you. As Chloé or...or Queen Bee.” She sniffed and lifted her head. Her reddened eyes fell on Nathanaël's and his heart stopped. Did he really

_yes_

love

_yes_

this girl?

“But,” she started. She pushed herself away from the tree and forced herself to stand straight. “If...if you'll let me...I...” She dropped her eyes to the ground again. “I want to prove I'm not the same Chloé I was two years ago. I...I want to prove I've changed. If...if you give me that chance, I'll...” She clenched her fists. “I'll spend the rest of my life trying to earn your forgiveness, because...” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. In. Out. When her eyes opened and locked onto his, Queen Bee's confidence shined through them, her gaze an alluring mix of determination and strength only marred by a faint twinge of fear.

“I love you.”

(#)

Nathanaël stood gawking at her after her confession. Her heart jumped up into her throat and lodged itself there, defying all attempts to swallow it back down. Her hands shook. A thin sheen of sweat crawled down the back of her neck. The chirping of crickets deafened her. She just wanted him to say something. Even telling her to go away and to never talk to him again would be preferable to this maddening silence.

_'Come on,'_ Chloé thought. _'Say something!'_

He took a step forward and Chloé fought off the urge to flinch backwards. A muscle just under her eye twitched, but she stood her ground. One step after another and he closed the distance between them until he stood over her. It made her alarmingly aware of just how much her bee-suit's heels closed the difference in their heights. Now, he almost loomed over her, and her confession had made her more open and vulnerable than she had been in her entire life. She didn't like it, but she knew she needed to open up to him if she wanted any hope of...

He lifted his arms and she couldn't keep her eyes open. She squeezed them shut as tight as she could, but blinked them open when he didn't push her away, but instead pulled her closer, his arms cinched around her shoulders. He rested his cheek against hers and she could feel his warm breath on her neck. Yes, he'd hugged Queen Bee before, but this was the first time they'd been this close without her suit in the way. Several moments passed before she accepted that maybe she wasn't dreaming and allowed her arms to encircle his chest. She breathed deep, drew in his scent: the earthy, woody musk of pencil shavings, the acrid stench of rubbing alcohol, the smoky odor of charcoal. The scents of an artist, of creation. Scents she had come to associate with him, with comfort, and now, potentially with

_love_

acceptance.

He pulled away from her and set his hands on her shoulders. He gazed into her eyes, a smile threatening his features. “Chloe,” he breathed. “I...I have over a year's worth of sketchbooks that prove you aren't the same person you were before you became Queen Bee. I have drawings of a thoughtful, compassionate, fierce girl. A girl who's taken hits for Ladybug. A girl who's worked with Chat evacuating civilians. A girl who stood by Volpina when the entire city was against her. I have drawings of a hero. Drawings of...” he blushed and turned his eyes away. “Of you.”

Every one of his words made her heart beat progressively faster. He wasn't pushing her away. He wasn't accusing her of being a fraud, of not deserving her Miraculous. He wasn't speaking with hatred, scorn or spite in his voice. He was calling her a hero.

“And I don't know when it happened,” he continued. “But I think somewhere, Bee started being more than just a muse. She was... _is_ a friend. Yeah, I was a little shaken when I found out _you_ were Queen Bee, but it was only because...” he scratched at the back of his neck and shuffled his feet, “some part of me refused to see you as more than the bully you used to be.” Chloé's face fell, but he was quick to add, “But I was wrong!” Their eyes met again, and they both blushed. “I see that now. I was... _completely_ wrong about you. You can change. _Have_ changed. Again Chloé, I'm not sure when it happened, but...” He swallowed hard and made sure his eyes never left hers as he said, “I...I love you.”

_'Did...did he just...he just said...'_ Chloé's mind whirled. She had never even entertained this outcome. Snapping at her, accusing her of lying, of not deserving to be a hero? She had almost put money on it. Turning away from her without a word, putting as much distance between them as he could? Wouldn't have surprised her. Maybe, _maybe_ , giving her a chance and _possibly_ going a few dates before he came to his senses and dumped her? Slim. Very slim. But confessing to her? Not just 'I like you', but 'I _love_ you'?

Chloé licked her lips. “You're...you're not saying that just because I'm...I'm Bee, are you?”

His lips curled upwards into a faint smile. “Wearing a mask doesn't change who you are. If anything, it makes it easier to be who you want to be. Chloé...” He brought a hand up to caress her cheek and wiped a tear away with his thumb. “I fell in love with who you really are. I f _mmmmm!”_

A pair of quick, deft hands slipping behind his head startled him. A set of soft pink lips pressed clumsily against his silenced him. It was obvious this was her first kiss: her lips were puckered too much, he was pretty sure her teeth clacked against his, and her nose was squished alongside his such that he could only breathe through one nostril, but the fluttering of his heart and the soft moan in his throat made him believe they would make time to practice. He closed his eyes and let his hands slip back around her shoulders. After a few seconds, the kiss softened, they both became more comfortable in the contact, and he settled into her arms.

She pulled away abruptly and took a deep breath. “I-I! I'm sorry!” she stuttered. “I'm sorry I kinda...I just...” She took another breath and pressed a palm against her forehead. “I...If this is a dream, I just wanted to get to the good part before I wake up.”

“Chloé! Chloé! It's okay!” He planted his hands on her cheeks and pulled her face towards his. “This isn't a dream.”

She looked into his eyes, her brow raised as though she still didn't believe this. Believe _him_. “So...you...you really do love me?”

Nathanaël nodded. “I do.” He brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen in her face. “I love you, Chloé.”

Their second kiss was slightly more comfortable than their first. They figured out that scrunched together wasn't the best way to deal with their noses, first of all. Their lips loosened more, and they didn't desperately press their faces together, so significantly less teeth. It was soft, gentle. Their bodies pressed together, fitting into one another almost perfectly, as though they were made for each other. When they broke apart, they didn't leave each other's arms. They just gazed on one another and smiled. There was no more uncertainty, no more fear. They knew where the stood; they knew what they felt.

Love. This was love they felt.

“So,” Chloé started. “Do you forgive me?”

“Maybe,” Nathanaël smirked. Chloé looked slightly disappointed until he added, “Before I can make that decision, I think we should go on a date where you're _not_ dressed like an insect. Perhaps even multiple dates.”

Chloé smiled. “You know, I think I'd like that.”

~

Chloé and Nathanaël. Nathanaël and Chloé. They were together now, but one obstacle still stood between them being together: explaining how two people who hated each other twenty-four hours ago were now dating and talking as though they'd been friends for years. It didn't make sense, and many people knew how Queen Bee seemed to favor Nath, so it wouldn't be such a stretch to connect the blonde superhero with the blonde daughter of the mayor.

Fortunately, Chloé had a plan.

They both stood in a cramped janitorial closet in the south wing of their lycée, illuminated by a single naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Chloé had a wide smirk on her face and arms crossed over her chest while Nathanaël wore confusion and left his arms to hang at his sides.

“Okay, so your master plan,” he spoke, unimpressed, “for hiding our relationship...is by _not_ hiding it?”

She grinned wider. “Brilliant, I know.”

“Except...it doesn't...make...sense?”

Chloé shook her head and laughed. “Nath, I'm the mayor's daughter, and as such I'm expected to date within a certain sphere: politician's sons, celebrities, professional models. I'm expected to date for political power or social status, not for love.” She planted a finger on his chest and pushed him against the wall. “Unfortunately, artists don't have much political or social sway, so dating you would be severely frowned upon.”

“You're not having second thoughts about this, are you?”

She pressed her body against him, effectively pinning him. “Of course not. Society can take its expectations of me and shove'em. I want to be with you. I love you.”

“S-so,” Nathanaël stuttered, trying to focus on anything other than her soft lips, her hypnotic blue gaze, the way her hands ran over his chest, “society doesn't want us to date. H-how, uh, how does that help us keep this a secret?”

“You still don't get it?” He shook his head a little more vigorously that he intended, nervousness overriding his sense of control. “We _don't_ keep it a secret. We just make people _think_ we've been keeping it a secret. We make people–”

“Th-think hating each other was just an act?” He couldn't stop his hands from trailing over her hips and settling about her waist.

Chloé nodded. “And we've been hiding our relationship for fear of the social fallout.” Her grin became wicked and she leaned in closer to him. “The scandal practically writes itself.”

“And when we want to go public with our relationship...we just, uh, 'get careless'?” His fingertips worked under the hem of her shirt, her soft skin igniting his senses.

“Now, you're catching on.”

“So, y-y-y-uhhhhh,” he sighed when he felt Chloe's lips against his neck. “W-we...just...”

Chloé pulled away from him and slipped her hands over his jaw and around to the back of his neck. “Nath, can't you take a hint?”

“Ch-Chloe...I...”

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT IS FINISHED! This one-shot I started two months ago that stopped being a one-shot is finally done! But I'm not done with NathChlo just yet...


End file.
